


Lake Days

by bell0na



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 03:27:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12597156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bell0na/pseuds/bell0na
Summary: A day on the Beach with your crush, Dean Winchester.





	Lake Days

**Author's Note:**

> This one ended up female specific. Sorry about that, must have spaced it while writing.

There’s a reason you fell for Dean Winchester.

It might have something to do with his Impala, or his eyes, or his endless stomach. But there’s just something about the Righteous Man that hit you in all the right ways that made you fall for him hard, that caused this crush (except it was more than that) to blossom and bloom.

 

By all rights you should have fallen for Sam, he was the sensible one, the one that actually got stuff done. That was actually sweet, kind, caring, the one who didn’t throw a stink when you asked for a hand with the dishes or wanted a break from research. It just hadn’t turned out that way. Sam was much more your big brother than anything else. And he could read you like one of those lore books his nose was always buried in.

Dean walked into the kitchen, all fuzzy from sleep. The three of you had just gotten back to the bunker after a wendigo hunt the day before. You had all crashed hard, especially the green-eyed wonder there, he had taken the brunt of the beating. He was in the process of putting on a plain grey t-shirt, wearing plaid (go figure) PJ pants that hung low enough on his hips for you to catch a glimpse of that delicious little v–

Sam snickered, and it brought you back to the present, suddenly focusing intensely on the pancakes you were making. You felt heat creep up the back of your neck, methodically flipping the pancakes one by one.

“Mmph, what’s for breakfast?” Dean managed to say, voice still rough from sleep.

Sam answered for you, “Pancakes, ___’s special recipe.”

Dean had snuck up behind you, suddenly wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you a hug, “They smell _awesome._ ” he said, grinning right next to your ear.

“They had better, I worked hard on these!” You said, ignoring your increasing heart-rate.

His arms left your waist, and you couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief. It’s like he knew what he did to you. Or he as just being his usual flirty Dean self. He didn’t know about the feelings you harbored for him, at least, you had never told him. You were confident Sam hadn’t either, as you had held a knife to his throat and made him promise not to reveal your secret. Literally.

“Y'know, I think we should go somewhere today,” Dean said, pouring himself a cup of coffee, “We’re overdue for a day off. Let's take one.”

You flipped the pancakes off the griddle and onto a nearby plate, sliding the short-stack to Dean’s seat at the table, he mumbled thanks and threw you a wink before diving into his meal.

Sam leaned back in his own seat, running his hands through his hair, “I’m down for a day off, but I think I’d rather just stay here,” his knowing gaze shifted to you, “You and ___ are welcome to go without me though.”

“You sure Sam?” You asked, stomach tied in knots at the thought of spending the day with Dean, and only Dean. You were doing your best to keep your voice calm, however, a little bit of excitement might have crept in.

“Yup, I’m sure. Go have fun.” Sam said, turning back to his food.

You looked at Dean, only to find his eyes already trained on you. He grinned, and you couldn’t help but match his expression, already giddy with anticipation.

“Whaddya say? You, me, some sunshine, some food and a lake for the day?”

You turned your back on him, attention once again on the pancakes you were making. You poured the rest of the batter onto the griddle biting on your lower lip to help hide the grin threatening to crack your face in half.

“Gee, I don’t know…”

“Aw, c'mon ___. You know you want to.” He actually almost pouted.

“Dean,” You said turning back to him, “It’s like you don’t even know me! Would I ever leave you hanging?”

His frowning face turned into the widest grin you had ever seen on the oldest Winchester, “There we go, that’s the ___I know and love.”

You definitely did not blush as you flipped the pancakes.

~~

10 minutes later you and Dean were packed, closing the doors of the Impala and sliding into your respective seats. Sam wasn’t coming, so you got to sit in the passenger seat, a real treat.

Dean had insisted on beer and blankets in the back seats, and some of the various weapons and such had been shoved aside to make room for a bag that Dean had been very secretive of what was in it. He had insisted on you wearing your swimsuit too, which you had on under a pair of jean shorts and an old AC/DC shirt you had snagged from Dean.

“Dean! Hurry up!” You called, leaning out of the passenger window.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He called, walking out of the bunker and jogging to the Impala. He slid into the driver's seat, throwing a smaller bag in the back seats and turning on the vehicle. The Impala let out a purr as Dean coaxed her to life. The smile on his face as that sound reached his ears was amazing, so full of childlike joy and almost foreign on his face.

“Alright,” he grinned, looking at you, “Let's get this show on the road.”

And with that he stepped on the gas, sending the Impala peeling out of the bunkers garage as you squealed in shock and glee.

Dean drove mostly in silence, only singing along with the radio as it blared the local Classic Rock station. Sometimes you sang along, but for the most part, you sat there, looking out at the road, and more often than not, Dean’s profile. You sat with your face resting on one hand and your feet on the dashboard, which Dean hadn’t yelled at you about.

Eventually, the pair of you pulled up to the shore of a lake not too too far away. You leaped right out of the car, arching your back and reaching up, stretching out the kinks in your back after the ride, however short it had been. You took a deep breath, letting out all the butterflies in your stomach after being in such a confined space with Dean. Getting in the Impala was bad enough, it smelled like him- all whiskey, leather, gunpowder, and oddly enough cinnamon. And that was just what you got from the back seat, riding shotgun was a completely different story. It was almost overwhelming just how much it smelled like him.

You turned, holding up a hand to your forehead to block the sun only to find him already on the shore with everything. He must have grabbed it all when you weren’t looking. Bastard. You hurried down there, kicking off your sandals and carrying them at some point.

“You coulda let me carry something.” You said to him as you reached the shore, there was more you had wanted to say, but the words got stuck in your mouth as Dean pulled his shirt off over his head, leaving him in just his black and green swim-trunks.

“Nah,” He said, detangling his arms from his shirt, “I felt like being nice for once,” he flashed his famous smirk at you and you rubbed at your arms rolling your eyes.

“Well?” Dean said after a minute.

“Well what?”

“Well are you gonna take it off or what?”

“Dean!” You said, lightly smacking his arm, “Yes I am. But not because you asked.”

He laughed and shook his head, turning his back to you so that he could take care of his shirt, as his back was turned you took a deep breath and pulled off the AC/DC t-shirt and your shorts, when Dean turned back to you, he started to say something, but all that happened was a sharp intake of breath.

His eyes coasted up and down your frame, wide, green and taking in every detail they could muster. You crossed your arms and started rubbing them as you felt yourself under his gaze. The suit you had picked out was fairly simple, a sporty bikini top in a solid red, with black board-shorts - the little swim shorts that fell mid-way down your thigh. Something that was functional, but it was a swimsuit, and that made it good for the beach, right?

“Wow.” Dean breathed, letting a slow smile on his face, “Just, wow, ___.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and smiled in return. You took a few steps to him - now it was your turn to let your eyes roam. When you;d had your fill of eye-candy, you looked at him and grinned, then took off at a run to the water.

He laughed and was hot on your heels, almost catching you once you got in the water. It actually wasn’t a bad temperature, you let out a giggle and dove, swimming out a few strokes before you had to pop back up for breath. A pair of arms snaked around your waist and pulled you close, making you squeak in shock and start squirming against Dean’s grip, giggling.

The two of you played in the water for what felt like hours before you got out, dripping wet from the lake and smiling wide. Dean reached your blankets first, throwing you a towel as he started getting himself dry. You huddled your towel close to you, shivering now that you were out of the water. You sat on the blanket he had laid out, curling your knees into your chest with your teeth chattering.

“Aw, is someone a widdle cold?” Dean said from behind you, your teeth were chattering too much to offer a witty response, so you just gave him the bird. He laughed and threw his towel at you, “C'mon ___, go dig us a hole and I’ll get us a fire going,”

“B-beach day and a b-bon f-fire? Someone’s in-inna good mo-ood.” Damn chattering teeth.

Dean grinned and shook his head, dropping a shovel at your feet. You sighed, dropping the towel and picking up the shovel. You paused to throw your AC/DC shirt back on, thinking it’d help a little with the chill you had. It didn’t take you long to get a hole dug that would work, you even went and found a few pieces of wood that would serve for fuel for the fire. You were on your second trip back to the pit with wood in your arms, the fire was lit when you came back, Dean coaxing it to life in the fading light.  The wood in your arms went to making a pile of extras that would be used to keep the fire going.

“So you gonna tell me what’s in the super secret bag or what?” You asked him, smiling.

Those green eyes looked at you with an air of confusion but then cleared, “Oh. That. Um, it’s just s'mores stuff.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and if it wasn’t for the red light of the fire, you could have sworn he was blushing. You shrugged it off with a grin.

“S'mores? I haven’t had those since I was little.” There was more than a tad of excitement in your voice.

That seemed to put him at ease, his easy grin was back, “Well tonight’s your lucky night, ___.” Dean said, waggling his eyebrows at you.

You laughed and moved to pull the blanket closer to the fire, just enough so the pair of you would be able to enjoy the warmth of the fire. Dean grabbed the bag of s'more things, placing it between the two of you.

The next hour was filled with easy conversation and laughs as the sky got darker. The smell of s'mores tickling your nose, the glow of the fire warming you and protecting you from the chill of the night air. The sky was black against the red firelight, reflecting millions of stars in the glassy lake water. It was beautiful. And there was no-one you’d rather spend this amazing night with other than Dean Winchester.

The man himself let out a sigh next to you as the lied down on the blanket, eyes up and focused on the sky. You looked down on him with the smallest of smiles, watching as his eyes took in every single star above the two of you.

It was a nice silence, there was nothing uncomfortable about it. There was just nothing else to say, so why fill the silence with needless words?

You tore your gaze away from him and tilted your face to the sky, still smiling. There was the feeling of a hand gently covering your own, you frowned slightly in confusion, looking down at your left hand and at Dean’s hand covering yours. You lifted your eyes, one eyebrow quirked in a silent question.

“C'mere.” He mumbled, and instead of the smirk you expected there was an actual shy smile on his lips, “Please?”

You weren’t about to deny him, even if the request sent your heart and stomach fluttering, little tingles traveling up your arm from where his hand never left yours. You gave a gentle little nod, shuffling so you were lying next to him, not really touching him, but close enough you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

He gave a little laugh, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He let go of your hand, making everything seem a little colder than it had a minute ago. He sat up slightly and pulled you over closer so that you were resting your head on his chest and ohmygod.

Cuddling.

With Dean freaking Winchester.

You had to focus on keeping your breathing even, not letting it quicken or hitch as being so close to him. You knew you were being a little stiff, still in shock that he had actually pulled you close to him. He must have felt that you were still a little weird about it, because one of his hands started rubbing slow circles on your back - a  gesture he had picked up on one of your first hard hunts with him, one where everything had gone wrong and you had broken down in the motel room, crying. Dean had heard you and pulled you close, you hadn’t calmed down until he had started rubbing circles on your back.

It was a sure fire way to get you to relax, and tonight was no different, your entire being seemed to felt at the touch, letting your body curve and meld to Dean’s in the most natural way. You closed your eyes for a moment, and let yourself smile. As if the night couldn’t have gotten any better to begin with.

It was a long time before either of you moved to get up, the fire was down to just embers, the majority of the light given by only the moon. It must have been really late for the moon to be that high in the sky. You both moved on some unspoken signal, untangling yourselves from each other and moving about, methodically packing up your things and loading them in Baby’s trunk. The ride back to the bunker was no different, quiet, mellow. The biggest difference was that Dean had taken hold of your left hand early on in the ride, resting your twined fingers on your thigh as he drove, moving it briefly only when he needed to change gears.

When you got back to the bunker, all the lights were off. Sam must have retired to bed long ago - a theory proven when you encountered a note on the table telling Dean not to be too loud with whatever girl he was bringing home from whatever bar they might have gone off to. It was kind of cute, actually.

Dean actually walked you to your room at the end of the hallway, even if his was at the other end.

“I, uh, I had fun tonight, ___,” Dean whispered, stalling outside your door.

You smiled and blushed, suddenly feeling like a little schoolgirl all over again, “Me too. We should do that again.”

It was a faint hope, that he actually liked tonight enough to do it again. There was something about the whole atmosphere that just made it seem so… perfect.

“We should,” He smiled at you, then his eyes went wide and he cursed, “Aw, shit, wait. Just, dammit, don’t move.” Dean turned and booked it down the hall, back into the living room.

There was the sound of the garage door to the bunker opening and a slam as it closed behind him. You stared down the hall, a rainbow of emotions at that particular moment. Against Dean’s word, you retreated back into your room, changing out of your beach clothing and into a pair of flannel pants and an old t-shirt of your own. You had just finished pulling the shirt on when there was a shy knock at your door.

“Come in.” You called as you ran your hands over the fabric of the shirt, fighting the butterflies that seemed determined to take over your stomach. Dean pushed the door open slowly, peeking his head around the corner. He relaxed once he saw you, now combing out your hair with a brush, then tensed up again once he stepped into the room. He was holding both arms behind his back, shifting his weight from one side to the other.

“What’s up?” You prompted, sitting on your bed and motioning for him to take a seat next to you. He stayed where he was, you frowned.

“Dean? Are you–”

“Hang on. I just… Don’t interrupt or I might get chicken.” He grumbled, lowering his eyes in the dim light of your bedroom. You opened your mouth to say something else, but Dean just plowed on ahead.

“___, look, I uh… Shit. I just wanna thank you. You’ve done a helluva lot for Sam and me, Lord knows how many times you’ve saved our asses, and I just -” He shoved a parcel to you, wrapped in newspaper, “- _here._ ”

You looked from Dean to the parcel and back again, more than a little confused. He waved it around in front of you, and you took it. He visibly relaxed again, then tensed as you started to pull apart the wrapping. He moved to sit on the bed next to you, watching you with nervous green eyes the entire time.

You were careful with the wrapping paper, but you were curious, so it still ended up in a crumpled pile next to you. Underneath the newspaper, there was a small leather-bound book, maybe eight inches in length and about six inches wide. You glance from Dean to the book, then opened it.

Your eyes went wide, and you gasped the smallest amount. It was a picture of you and the boys, the day you had moved into the bunker - there were still boxes everywhere, and all of you were smiling. You turned the pages, enjoying memory after memory that was captured in the images. Your smile got wider and wider with every page turn, and the book was only about half full.

Dean spoke from beside you, “I thought that, well. Our job sucks, there’s not a lot of happy in it, y'know? But, when there is happiness it deserves to be remembered. So…” He trailed off, looking up at you for a moment before he sighed and turned his gaze away, standing up and starting to walk away. He must have mistaken your silence for disliking the gift.

“Yeah, I know, it was a stupid idea. You don’t have to keep it if –”

“Dean,” You interrupted, carefully placing the picture on your bedside table before jumping on him and pulling him into a massive hug. It took him a minute to realize you were happy, but once that sunk in he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight as he rested his cheek on the side of your head.

“Oh, I thought you didn’t like -”

“You’re right, I don’t like it. I love it,” You pulled back from him, looking up into those green eyes you loved so much, feeling very warm where you still had physical contact with him, “It’s amazing. Every single happy memory I have with you and then some. It’s… It’s great.”

He sighed, dropping his eyes to the floor before he lifted his head again, grinning at you again. He didn’t speak though, so you did.

“But, what are those empty pages for?”

He chuckled, “They’re for the memories I wanna make with you,” He whispered, “You make me so happy, make me wanna be a better guy ___. And I wanna make sure that you’re happy.”

He was gonna gush, and as much as you wanted to hear it, he had delivered the best possible answer to you, and you reacted on impulse, standing on your toes and kissing him full on the lips. It was just a quick kiss, so when you pulled back Dean was staring at you, a little stunned.

“It’s perfect Dean. Stop worrying,” you smiled at him, “You make me happy every day, you have to know that.”

His face lit up again, smiling as he pulled you closer for a hug, full of warmth and relief and happiness. The two of you swayed a little where you stood, eyes closed and smiling, dancing to your own little tune.

Yeah, maybe a day on the lake had been a great idea.


End file.
